


golden glittering girl

by Hipsters_and_Starbucks



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Clarke wears a sparkly dress, F/M, I am not sorry, Kissing, New York, Power Outage, Storms, Trapped in an elevator, Winter, i guess, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6802207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hipsters_and_Starbucks/pseuds/Hipsters_and_Starbucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy gets trapped in an elevator during a storm with a pretty, rich girl</p>
            </blockquote>





	golden glittering girl

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by that one Gossip Girl episode where Serena and Dan get stuck in an elevator together (2x03, 'The Dark Night')  
> Also this is my first attempt at Bellarke, so be kind please  
> See you at the end!

The glistening white building stands out sharply against the backdrop of a rapidly darkening sky and haze of rain drops. Bellamy hurries through the drizzle, which had only started a few minutes ago, and into the warmth of the white building.  
He walks up the plush, purple carpeted steps and his senses are assaulted with decadence. The ceiling is gold and mirrors line the luxurious foyer; Bellamy instantly hates it. He’s always hated ostentatious shows of wealth and feels his old resentment towards the wealthy rise up in his throat. Bellamy swallows it and looks down at the package he has to deliver to the seventh floor of the building. Working as a courier for Amazon may not be the most glamorous job, but Bellamy needs to pay for his masters and Octavia’s undergrad degrees somehow.

 

Walking past a doorman who is warming his hands on a heater in an open cupboard, Bellamy inhales and tries to avoid making eye contact. The doorman gives him a once over and wrinkles his nose slightly, as though he can smell how poor Bellamy is. Trying to ignore the hot anger he feels washing over him, Bellamy holds his head high, walks past him and to the elevator bank.

 

He takes one of the four gold elevators up to the seventh floor and leans against the mirrored wall and letting the heating warm him up. His damp hair is curling as it dries; he runs a hand through it, hoping to tame it before it becomes too tangled.

 

Turning the package over in his hands, Bellamy wonders what could be so important for a rush order on the 23rd December. Probably a late Christmas present, he thinks to himself and snorts. The elevator dings softly, interrupting him from his thoughts, and the double doors open onto a single silver doorway.

 

Bellamy knocks on the door, hears hurried footsteps headed his way and the door is flung open by an older woman wearing a gold dressing gown.

  
“Are you Mrs Vanderbilt, ma’am?” he asks her, hoping that his voice sounds polite instead of disrespectful.

  
“Yes, thank you.” She says sharply, grabs the box from his arms and slams the door in his face.

  
Bellamy stares at the door incredulously for a few seconds and then shakes his head in disbelief before turning and pressing the down button by the elevator; he leans on the wall while he waits and closes his eyes.

  
A loud crash of thunder outside forces his eyes open in surprise, he’d been hoping to outrun the storm and make it back to the subway, four blocks away, before it hit.

  
The ding of the elevator announces its arrival and Bellamy steps in, still contemplating with mild horror his impending walk back to the subway.  
He is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice that someone is already in the elevator. He doesn’t even look over until he hears a slight shuffling.

  
Looking over, all Bellamy can see is wealth. A girl is standing on the other side of the elevator with golden hair piled on her head in an elaborate bun, her long silver dress cascades down her body and the tiny crystals on it cast rippling rainbows across the elevator. She is clutching a small bag and applying red lipstick in the mirror. Her eyes meet Bellamy’s briefly and he notes how very blue they are, before her gaze slides away again and back to her own glittering reflection.

  
She must be one of the privileged, Bellamy thinks, for her to be able to afford an apartment in this building. He hates her instantly, not least because she looks about the same age as Octavia and already has so much more than her. The usual waves of bitterness are washing over him; Bellamy bites his tongue to keep from making a scathing comment at her. Instead, he folds his arms and looks at the ceiling.

  
A loud crash of thunder comes and then another, Bellamy looks subtly over at the other occupant of the elevator, she’s slightly paler and the hand her lipstick is in is shaking.

  
Another loud crash and the elevator jolts, causing Bellamy to grip the handrail; the girl lets out a slight shriek and drops her lipstick. The lights flicker and go out and the elevator jerks to a stop. Oppressive silence falls, the comforting hum of the heating and electricity is gone now and the only sound is their rapid breathing.

  
Low emergency lights appear and illuminate the elevator; the girl breathes a sigh of relief and picks up her dropped lipstick. She glances over at Bellamy and offers him a tentative smile which he doesn’t return. Bellamy and the girl get out their phones at the same time, but the lack of signal mocks Bellamy even as he tries to message Octavia.

  
He puts his phone back in his pocket and glances around the elevator and his eyes come to rest on a small button on the control panel in the shape of a phone. Bellamy crosses the elevator and pushes it, hearing it ring with relief.

  
“Hello?” a male voice answers the phone, Bellamy pictures the sullen doorman and tries to make his voice polite.

  
“Hi, we were coming down in one of the elevators when the power went out and now we’re stuck in here.”

  
“Who’s in there?” Comes the distant reply.

  
“Um, I’m the delivery guy and a girl.” He says quickly, not looking at her.

  
“Well there’s not a lot we can do until the power comes back on, so you’ll just have to wait.” Says the man and Bellamy suppresses the urge to yell.  
“Thank you for your help.” He says curtly and then walks back to his wall of the elevator and groans softly.

  
A slight shuffling makes him look over at the girl again, she’s chewing on her lip and her hands are opening and closing her clutch in a nervous motion. Bellamy can almost pinpoint the moment where she makes a decision and she strides forward and presses the call button.

  
“Hello?” the doorman sounds a lot more irate this time around.

  
“Hey there Benny,” she says in a soothing voice.

  
“Miss Griffin?” he asks, shocked.

  
“Benny please, it’s Clarke, how many times do I have to tell you?” There’s laughter in her voice; Bellamy can tell that it’s a conversation that they’ve had many times.

  
“What can I do for you, Miss Clarke?” Benny the doorman asks.

  
“Well I’m the girl trapped in the elevator with the delivery boy and I’m supposed to be on my way to meet my mother right now…” her voice trails off and her cheeks have flushed.

  
“I’ll call someone right away Miss Clarke, we’ll get you out of there in no time!” he replies, nervous and worried.

  
“Thank you so much Benny!” she says brightly and then returns to her wall.

  
The anger and resentment is rising in Bellamy, bubbling to the surface before he can repress it, before he can contain himself. He snorts. The sound reverberates around the tiny space like a gunshot and the girl, _Clarke_ , turns to face him slowly, her face still pink.

  
“Can I help you?” she asks icily.

  
“Oh sure,” Bellamy replies, equally as cold, “So do you get treated like royalty everywhere you go or is it just when you ask?”

 

Clarke doesn’t look ashamed or embarrassed; she just squares her shoulders and makes eye contact with him.

  
“Why are you complaining? Because of me we’re getting out of this elevator. Maybe you should be thanking me.”

  
“Thanking you for what exactly? For flaunting your privilege or for rescuing me because you somehow think I’m worth less than you, princess?” Bellamy spits, venom in his every syllable.

  
“I don’t think I’m worth more than you!” she shouts back, cheeks flushing cherry red, “It’s not my fault that my family is rich and that I can use my status to help us out!”

  
“I bet you’ve coasted by on your family name your whole life. I bet you’ve never worked a day in your life and you’ve got some rich boy to marry who will make sure you never have to work.”

  
“Well I bet that just because you came from a poor family you think you’re morally superior to rich people,” Her hair has started to fall out of its perfect bun as she gets more flustered, a golden tendril curling down her neck, “Let me tell you something, you are no better than anyone with that power, in fact you’re worse because you assume that you are better. Don’t assume that you know me.”

  
Bellamy stands back in stunned silence; he had never expected such a small girl to have such a fierce attitude. Mentally he starts to berate himself, if only he’d kept his thoughts himself, they could have not spoken at all.

  
In the silence, the rumbles of thunder sound louder and closer together than before; Bellamy wonders if, even with Clarke’s prompting of the doorman, they’ll be rescued any time soon.

  
He hears a thump and, looking over, sees that Clarke has slid down the mirrored wall and is now sitting on the floor, cross legged and wrestling with her silver heels. Bellamy follows suit and sits down.

  
Despite the rumbling thunder and distant raindrops, nothing can disguise the first of Bellamy’s stomach growls. He feels his face flush even as it happens and pretends not to notice the hunger gnawing at his insides. Octavia always calls him to remind him to eat lunch, but she is at Lincoln’s parent’s house for the day, so Bellamy hasn’t eaten since breakfast and it’s nearing seven at night now.  
The second stomach rumble is harder to ignore, it sounds like a whale’s distress signal. Bellamy watches as Clarke rolls her eyes and opens her clutch, digging around in it for a few seconds. He assumes that she’s looking for headphones to drown out the sounds of his hunger.

  
“Here.” She says, offering him something.

  
“What.” Bellamy replies ungraciously, she rolls her eyes again and slides him a granola bar across the marble floor of the elevator.

  
“Why do you have a granola bar?” Bellamy asks her suspiciously without retrieving it.

  
“I’m going to a charity gala tonight and it’s going to be a long one, I get hungry at these events,” She says, smiling slightly. Bellamy is still staring at the granola bar when she says, “Just take it, we don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck in here and I don’t want you to die, even if you are an asshole.”

  
Bellamy flushes slightly at her words and takes the granola bar, unwrapping it eagerly and biting into it. The warm taste of peanuts and honey floods his mouth and he nearly sighs in satisfaction.

  
“I’m Clarke, Clarke Griffin.” She says, offering her hand for him to shake it.

  
“I know.” Bellamy replies.

  
“Ok well I’m so sorry for trying to be polite.” Clarke says, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  
Silence stretches between them for several painstaking moments. Bellamy’s conscience, or inner Octavia, is screaming at him for being so rude to a pretty girl, who is obviously trying to be civil. He clears his throat gruffly and says,

  
“I’m Bellamy Blake.”

  
“Well Bellamy, I would say nice to meet you, but under these circumstances…” her voice trails away, but her eyes are glittering.

  
There is an awkward pause, as though both of them are deciding whether they want to get to know the other. Clarke breaks the silence with a question,  
“So how come you’re working as a delivery boy?”

  
“I need to earn money to pay for my postgrad and help my little sister out with her undergrad.”

  
“What are you doing your postgrad in?”

  
Bellamy smiles at her wolfishly and holds up a hand to stop her, “No fair princess,” Clarke bristles at the nickname, “If we’re going to do this, we have to go a question at a time, one each.”

  
Clarke considers him for a second before nodding her head, another golden curl coming loose.

  
“So my turn,” Bellamy scrutinises the glittering girl in front of him, trying to work out what he wants to know about her, “Have you ever worked a day in your life?”

  
She glares at him, “I’ll have you know that I’m in my first year of medical school at Yale. My turn, what’s your postgrad?”

  
“Classical Studies at Columbia, where were you going tonight?”

  
“I am going to a Christmas gala that my mom is hosting. Where did you grow up?”

  
“Long Island, do you actually enjoy going to galas?”

  
“Of course I don’t, but I want to get through this holiday without fighting with my mom. What’s your favourite ancient civilisation?”

  
“Ancient Rome, it’s why I chose the name Octavia for my younger sister, do you have any siblings?”

  
“None, how old is your sister?”

  
“Eighteen, what do your parents do to make you so rich?”

  
“My mom is a Senator; my dad was a professor at Princeton. What degree is your sister doing?”

  
“Pre-Law at George Washington, what does your dad do now?”

  
“Nothing, he died a year ago.”

  
Clarke looks down at the floor, silent. Bellamy regrets ever being born. He shifts slightly closer to her and puts his hand on her knee.

  
“I’m sorry, my-my mom is dead too.”

  
She looks up at him and he’s horrified to see that her clear blue eyes are swimming with tears.

  
“Sucks doesn’t it.” Clarke says, her voice cracking slightly. Bellamy puts his hand on her arm, but is distracted from what he was going to say by how cold her skin is.

  
“You’re freezing!” he says angrily and stands up.

  
“Well yeah, this dress wasn’t designed for sitting in freezing cold elevators.” She draws her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

  
Bellamy feels an irrational surge of protectiveness; he shrugs off his coat and throws it at her.

  
“Wear this.” He says shortly, turning away to face the mirrored wall so she won’t see the visible frustration on his face,

  
“But now you’ll be cold.” Clarke protests and Bellamy almost growls at her.

  
“Just wear the damn coat.” He snaps.

  
He hears her rustling and then a sigh of contentment from her. A small smile creeping across his face makes Bellamy glad that he turned away from her.

  
“You know I can see you smiling,” Clarke comments.

  
Bellamy whips round to glare at her, but she’s smiling at him now, laughter in her eyes.

  
“Bellamy Blake is a secret softie, who’d have known?”

  
Bellamy slides back onto the marble floor next to her and nudges her with his elbow, she giggles and pushes him back. Turning to say something to her, Bellamy suddenly notices how close they are, he can count every eyelash framing Clarke’s ocean eyes, his hand brushes her wrist and it feels as though he’s been electrocuted. She leans imperceptibly closer, eyelids closing over those mesmerizing eyes and lips parting slightly. Bellamy takes a deep breath and leans in too.

  
A sudden jolt causes them to spring apart. The elevator gives an almighty groan and starts moving slowly. Bellamy is back by his wall and Clarke by hers; he can see colour rising rapidly up her face, if the heat in his own cheeks is any indication, he probably looks similarly flushed.

  
They ride the remaining two floors in complete silence, neither of them making eye contact with the other. Bellamy’s mind is racing, but he doesn’t want the moment to be lost forever, he doesn’t want Clarke Griffin to become an almost in his life.

  
When the elevator dings this time, Bellamy hates the sound more than he’s ever hated anything before. Clarke steps out of the elevator first, after retrieving her glittering heels from the floor, and into the brightly lit foyer, Bellamy follows her out.

  
He sees Benny the doorman rush over to her and start apologising, but he is too busy checking his phone for any messages from Octavia or Miller.

  
_21:15_  
From: O  
_Hey Bell staying at L’s 2night, dnt wait up! See u tomo, love you_

  
Bellamy glares down at his phone for a second, considering whether he should call her and demand that she return home, before deciding that he’s had enough emotional turmoil for one day.

  
He starts to leave the building and is halfway down the purple steps when he hears Clarke call out his name.

  
“Hey, hey Bellamy! Wait!” he turns around to see her hurrying after him, silver heels back on her feet, golden hair half up still, but mostly spilling down his coat.

  
“Yes?” he says, hoping against all hopes that she’s come to finish their stolen moment in the elevator.

  
“I was just wondering if I could give you a lift anywhere? There’s a car waiting for me out front and I was hoping I could take you somewhere as a thank you for lending me your coat.”

  
“I’m good. Thanks.” He says and continues walking down the steps, his mind is churning. Was that the only reason why she wanted to kiss him? To thank him?

  
“Oh,” he hears her say, “Well I guess you want your coat back if you’re walking.”

  
Bellamy turns around and takes it from her without meeting her eyes.

  
“Have a good night, Bellamy Blake.” She says softly.

  
He doesn’t respond and walks out of the glistening white building and away from the glittering golden girl.

  
Lost in his thoughts for a block, Bellamy doesn’t immediately hear his name being called or the splashing of running feet, running to catch up with him.

  
What he does feel, however, is someone grabbing his arm. Bellamy turns, prepared to fight off a mugger, until he sees Clarke standing in the rain, her hair wet and dress attracting some looks from passers-by.

  
“I don’t care why you’re suddenly in a bad mood, but I’ve wanted to do this all night and I’m pretty sure you have too.”

  
Then she stands on her tiptoes, and, wrapping her arms around his neck, kisses him hard.

  
For a moment, Bellamy is too dumbstruck to react, still processing her words, ‘I’ve wanted to do this all night’. His brain finally catching up with his body, Bellamy wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up. Her hair finally comes loose from its bun and Bellamy is running his hands through it within seconds, noting how it smells like cinnamon and vanilla.

  
The kiss lasts for several seconds, until he realises that Clarke is, once again, freezing.

  
“Clarke! You’re freezing!” he says angrily.

  
“If you didn’t make me run after you in the rain I could be in a warm car by now.” She snaps back. They glare at each other for a few seconds before Clarke starts giggling. She grabs Bellamy by the hand and tugs him back towards the car.

  
“Where are we going?” Bellamy asks her, both trying to free his hand and take his coat off so he can wrap Clarke in it.

  
“Where do you want to go?” she asks him, smiling up at him so brightly that Bellamy could have sworn that it stopped raining for a few seconds.

  
“Don’t you have a gala to get to?”

  
“I’m sure my mom won’t miss my presence now that it’s so late. Anyway, if she asks, I can claim that I was trapped in an elevator all night,” She’s dragged Bellamy into the warmth of the car now and is huddled up against him, “Where do you want to go, Bellamy Blake?”

  
The feeling of warmth cascading through him makes Bellamy feel unbelievable happy for a few seconds, which is his excuse for saying, ‘I’d go anywhere with you, princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will write a season appropriate fic, but today is not that day  
> I hoped you liked my first attempt at Bellarke and I may be writing more in the future, so stay tuned for that  
> Come find me on tumblr, my URL is if-it-takes-a-war-for-us-to-meet (kudos to you if you get the reference!)


End file.
